In His Hands the Lightning Trembled
by sunshineditty
Summary: Or...Five ways in which Dean Winchester Pwned Harvey Specter. It's not really a crossover since it's very AU for both shows. Think more of it as an interlude...because pretty men are my weakness.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **In His Hand the Lightning Trembled (or Five Ways in Which Dean Winchester Pwned Harvey Specter)

**Author**: Sunshineditty

**Fandom**: Suits crossed with Supernatural AU

**Word count**: 2574

**Rating: **T for now (silly boys and their potty mouths)

**Summary**: This started out as a porn-y thought that popped into my head for no apparent reason other than I like pretty boys and sometimes Harvey Specter just begs to be taken down a peg or two. Dean Winchester seems like the guy to fit the bill – and maybe with a little Mike Ross thrown in for fun because his puppy-eyes begged me to include him in the man-meat sandwich. However, the further I got into it, the more the story changed until it became...this. There is no time stamp for either show (though there is random information gleaned from various seasons for both) and if the characters are a little off the usual cut, well, that's cause I've taken them into _my_ world now.

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I.

Harvey is a _Very Important Man_ (emphasis on the capitalization and italics), so he can be excused for ignoring nearly every other human in his proximity as beneath his regard unless they are a) Jessica or Donna, b) a client, or c) his puppy Mike Ross. Therefore, it would shock anyone entering or monitoring that particular elevator one fine March morning, that he _notices_ someone else getting into the small car with him. Of course, the shock would be smoothed over once any interested observer (and admittedly there would be a wide pool of people who watched his every move, thereby reinforcing his inflated _Very Important Man_ ego) realized it was the _clothes_ the man wore, not the man himself who initially caught Harvey's attention.

The suit – and he used the word reluctantly, loathe to put it in the same category as Rene's works of art – was not only off the rack (oh the horror! and hand-wringing! and wailing!) but ill-fitting to boot. Harvey thought he would be desensitized to this gaudy display, especially given what he had to work with once Mike became _his_...associate...but even Mike's former rags were ten times better than this sackcloth.

So Harvey being Harvey decided he couldn't allow this sartorial affront to go unnoticed or unpunished. He was a defender of liberty! Defender of justice! And defender of well-groomed metro sexual men everywhere!

"You do realize this is an exclusive law office and we have a ban against hobos loitering. In fact, I wonder how you managed to get through security dressed like that." Harvey raised his Blackberry threateningly. "If you promise to stay in the car until it returns to the lobby and exiting the building peacefully, I won't be forced to call security.

The suit suddenly grew a head and arms and legs right before Harvey's eyes, and the wearer turned amused green eyes in his direction, long blond lashes fluttering against high cheekbones, while a wicked grin curved sinfully plump lips into an enticing bow.

"Good-looking man, nice suit, douche-y attitude. You must be Harvey Specter."

Surprise widened his eyes, but he was unable to return a sally because the car halted and the doors slid smoothly open, allowing his combatant – and yes he was instantly upgraded to that for speaking back instead of dissolving into a quivering in a heap of jelly in the corner – to step out and throwing a jaunty two finger wave in his direction.

Harvey would not stand for this! He wasn't done dressing down (oh the irony of his thoughts had he but listened to his internal rant) the bad black-suited man with an ugly blue and white striped tie – though he had to give him points however reluctantly for not resorting to the same skinny ties Mike _still_ favored even nearly two years later – so he followed him, uncaring of the astonished looks people flashed him as he stalked by. Harvey didn't even realize where they were going until the door to a familiar glass office opened and he shifted his attention enough to realize the man was entering Jessica Pearson's domain.

Smugness wafted from him as he pictured the sharp skewering he was about to witness, and stomped right in behind him, prepared to have the best seat in the house. Unfortunately for him, the gods of sartorial splendor were off making the two backed beast with their acolytes because Jessica's face went from faintly quizzical to demonstrably happy, even giddy if Harvey knew the word, as evidenced by her very un-Senior Managing Partner-like squeal and plunge around her desk to throw her arms around his rapidly becoming nemesis.

"Dean, you're actually here! I almost didn't believe when Steve called me saying you were downstairs."

Jessica was tall, especially in her very expensive Balenciaga heels (Harvey approved of her attire, absently noting how the striking orange accents of her shoes mirrored her jewelry, which was nicely set off by the beige D&G power suit she _rocked_), but she barely stood two inches above their mysterious guest.

"You sent out the bat signal, Jessie. I came as quick as I could."

"Last I heard, coming quickly wasn't a problem for you."

The white noise that abruptly canceled out his hearing was surely from some supersonic boom caused by a _Top Gun_ wanna be pilot zooming past and rattling Jessica's windows, because his boss and the most circumspect woman he'd ever met – hell, she'd married, lived with, and divorced her _husband_ in the fifteen years he'd known her and never let that pertinent fact slip – did _not_ flirt or dirty talk with random strangers in the office. Or bars. Or anywhere really.

"...we've met."

Harvey snapped back to attention, mortified to see both occupants now staring at him. He was glad they'd ceased their licentious banter, but wasn't pleased by the laser focus turned on him.

"You met Harvey and survived? Wearing that?"

"Finally, someone with taste!" He heartily acknowledged the disdain oozing from Jessica. He was finally back on firm ground. "How could you allow _that_ to darken our halls? We have standards to uphold! People to impress..."

"Wow you weren't kidding when you said I should avoid him at first. All over a friggin' suit?"

Jessica sighed and shook her head a little. "Can you see why I need your help?"

"If he's an asshole to everyone like this, no wonder he's getting death threats."

Harvey had continued to rant on, oblivious to their exchange, but his brain and ears finally spoke to one another and he stopped abruptly, his mind rewinding the last few moments (it is to be pointed out while his brilliance wasn't the same type as Mike's, it can't be said he wasn't a genius in his own right, though no one ever _had_ to say it since Harvey did it enough for any two people).

"Wait...what?"

Dean's green eyes lazily slipped over him, heating bits and pieces of him not already currently bound up in rage, and Harvey shifted restlessly, halting immediately when he realized how vulnerable the fidgeting made him seem. And Harvey Aaron Specter was not prey.

"Dean, Harvey Specter the best damn closer in New York. Harvey, Dean Winchester, the best damn private eye on the eastern seaboard."

"Western too, really. Ever since Sammy joined the family biz, we control both coasts."

"And modest I see," Harvey snarked, unable to resist the dig.

"When you got it, flaunt it."

And boy did Dean flaunt it, the (allegedly) shabby coat falling open to reveal a thin blue shirt – the shade was so light, it was almost white against the dark black nap – which did nothing to hide the shadow of a tightly ribbed stomach. Harvey's mouth watered a little, but he chalked it up to no coffee or muffin yet. After all, he hadn't seen Donna …

"Donna!" He dragged his eyes (unwillingly) from the private dick (ha!) and growled at his boss. "She's the one who told you."

"Harvey, she shouldn't have had to. _You_ should've come to me the instant you received the letter."

He waved this aside. "The letter was piddling next to the video he took of me sleeping..." _oh shit, they didn't know about that._

Dean was suddenly all business, casual flirtation blanked from his expression. "You've received more, Mr. Specter?"

Harvey sighed heavily through his nose and blamed his momentary distraction on the clothing upset, but found he couldn't get too worked up when it was genuine concern etched across Jessica's face. Considering the amount of time, power, and money she'd poured into his making, he couldn't justify holding back when she'd orchestrated this on his behalf – whatever past she shared with Dean, it was obvious there was a marker she called in.

"It started out as random late night phone calls with heavy breathing, which admittedly aren't unknown for me." He smirked a little, knowing by Jessica's eye rolling and Dean's quirked brow, they understood the implied _booty call_ . Harvey's smile faded though. "Then it wasn't just to my cell, but my house phone, the office phone, at different times of the day but no one ever responded when I answered. A few weeks went by of this before I changed my personal numbers and had IT change my extension here, so I thought it was finished when the calls stopped."

He stood then (briefly wondering when he'd sat to begin with but mentally waved it off as irrelevant), restlessly pacing in front of them, barely aware of them seated before him. "That's when the video showed up. It wasn't very well down, grainy and green like it was shot with night vision on the camera, but it was of my bedroom while I slept. And from the time stamps, different nights."

"Where did you receive the package?"

"It was left on the doorstep of my apartment. Which _shouldn't_ have happened since all packages must be signed through the security of my building."

A large scarred hand reached out, lightly touching his wrist, and pulled Harvey from the burgeoning panic he'd barely been aware of until just this moment. He traced his gaze up the arm the hand belonged to and reached a broad shoulder, the surprisingly delicate jawline for such a masculine looking guy, before finally consenting to peer into Dean's eyes. The green was darker now and something within Harvey relaxed a little as assurance bled from those fascinating orbs. He was disconcerted by the unfamiliar feelings this stranger was pulling from him; it wasn't often Harvey felt anything less than smug, secure in his righteousness, and king of all he surveyed, but surprisingly, it wasn't a worrying sensation. He floated in the endless sea, almost content to just bob gently in the waves of soothing calmness buffeting him.

"I reamed the staff, had Sweepers come through the apartment to find the cameras, changed the locks and ramped up the cybernetic security for higher hacking capture, and junked the video. The next day the letter showed up detailing the gruesomeness of my death on Donna's desk."

Each word fell from his lips in a benign manner, all of the dread leached away as if by magic. He vaguely recognized the sensation and memories, locked behind two sets of steel doors, reinforced with iron will, and buried under rhetoric bullshit, teased at the periphery of his awareness.

"You're a sensate, aren't you?"

Dean reared back startled, his hand falling away.

The muffled veil between Harvey and his emotions was sheared in half and he plunged right back into the rage-fear-horror cycle, but he gladly donned the protection, feeling it armor him against the intrusiveness of the fucking _empath_'s touch.

"Harvey -"

He ignored Jessica's intercession and stabbed a finger in the other man's direction. "Fuck you, Dean, and the little dog you rode in on."

Dean held up his hands in submission, a wry expression crossing his face. "Sorry, occupational hazard. I felt the turmoil of your emotions and I couldn't help myself."

"You do realize if you were a defendant in a case, you couldn't use that as a legal defense? My gift made me do it," Harvey's mouth curled up in disgust. "You should be wearing gloves."

He felt vengeful satisfaction when Dean's empathetic mask fell away for a brief second to show acidic anger at the insult. Barrier Cloth was no longer required of Touch Sensates, not since the early nineties when the law was finally struck down by the Supreme Court as unconstitutional because it deemed those with such gifts as _other_ and left them unprotected to attacks. There were several interpretations of the law at the state legislature level of course, but on a national level, the sensates were no longer singled out and were considered a protected group; if they were registered as demanded since the early nineteenth century.

"You may be justified in your anger at his well-meaning intrusion, but if you continue to disparage him, we _will_ have words."

The snapping pop of Jessica's words lashed against his senses and reeled him back from the churning cesspool of messy emotions he'd been mired in for – looking at his watch – little over an hour. Rolling his shoulders in an attempt to settle his nerves, he nodded sensibly, but avoided looking at Dean. He really was out of line for that crack, especially since he'd cheered with the rest of his schoolmates when the final decision was handed down. He didn't understand his reaction to the other man, so once again he chalked it up to the initial furor over that fucking suit.

"I might've been hasty with my words."

"Jesus, dude, don't let the stick up your ass fall out. Lucky for you I'm an Empath and forgiveness is kinda part of this schtick. Also, I shouldn't have crossed the barrier without your leave."

Harvey's resolution to avoid Dean failed and he looked at him in surprise at the formal words of apology. It was unexpected, just like everything that happened here this morning.

Dean's responding grin was nothing short of illegal and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners should be considered one of the holy sins. Just saying. Harvey shook himself free of the voice in his head (ignoring how it might've sounded a little like Mike) and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"While I don't think this stalker of mine warrants the presence of an outsider – I do have Veronica on retainer after all – I will allow it.

"I'm grateful, Harvey, really."

The dryness in Jessica's voice wrapped around him until he found himself unconsciously hunching his shoulders around his ears like he used to when he worked in the mail room all those eons ago. Annoyance at his uncharacteristic lapses in judgment and emotionality broke him free of the strangeness permeating the room.

"Well, now that's settled, I better get on with my day. Billables won't bill themselves without me..." he trailed off before he nattered on even more nonsensically, and walked out of the office, walking in a faster than normal but still dignified pace (fled like the coward he was) down the hall.

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_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Five Ways in Which Dean Winchester Pwned Harvey Specter

**Author**: Sunshineditty

**Fandom**: Suits crossed with Supernatural AU

**Word count:** 2,087

**Rating: **T for now

**A/N:** I took some liberties with one of the characters' names (you'll see when you read) because I couldn't find any indication we were ever given a surname, so I made it up. Thanks for everyone's comments/favorites/follows for this wacky story.

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II.

Donna Paulsen was a titian-haired goddess.

It's true because everyone who ever met the diabolically witty and evilly organized woman usually ended up on their knees prostrate before her, worshiping at her altar in hopes of sipping from the font of her wisdom. It was a hard job, but someone needed to fill the position, so Donna decided to grace mere mortals with her presence; and in exchange, she expected instant obedience to her whims, lots of shiny objects, and constant updates to any and all gossip floating through the law _building_ (she controlled all levels of communication because how else was she to awe her disciples with her knowledge and foresight?)

So she knew about the uncommonly flustered encounter with the mysteriously ill-suited but gorgeous man in the elevator, followed by Harvey stalking to Jessica's office after said man, actually showing emotion during his duration in there (though to be fair, he did have everyone trained to believe he was the prototype for the original T-800 cyborg so merely lifting an eyebrow provoked mass hysteria), and stomping out of said office a while later, before her boss was even two steps down the hall. Donna was grateful one of her lesser powers was the ability to predict the behavior of one Harvey Specter, so by the time he blew by her desk, his freshly made coffee and a banana nut muffin sat in its usual place, along with the stack of today's mail. His carefully vetted mail, which revealed the presence of another hate-filled letter, similar to the likes which originally sent her to Jessica in the first place. She interpreted his "Donna," as the "thanks for being awesome per usual" it was.

"Morning, sweetheart."

Donna's eyes didn't raise above the level of her monitor as she swiftly typed in commands to send forth the Kraken (i.e. carefully worded emails she drafted to certain members in the firm who could help her keep a discrete eye on Harvey), so she merely raised her right index finger to remind her unannounced guest that a) she was more important and b) he was a lesser being in front of the Administrative Assistant Goddess and could wait his damn turn.

The soft wet heat surrounding the fingertip startled her out of her ignoring the lesser beings routine (there's a reason why she and Harvey got on well after all) and she unwittingly succumbed to what was known in other quarters as the Winchester Sneak Attack by raising her eyes to his level. The sinfully red mouth gently sucking on her upraised digit was one she suddenly had an urge to write filthy love sonnets about, already composing odes to the writhing soft tongue lapping at her sensitive skin. The slick slide of his lips was fascinating and so compelling, she didn't realize she was half out of her chair in an attempt to recapture that hallowed bit of heaven until she heard the unmistakable creak.

Pale cheeks bloomed a becoming pink as Donna realized her tattered dignity, thankful no one had witnessed her shameful lapse (well beside Harvey, but he didn't really count since he knew better than to cross her majestic rage) and dropped back.

"You must be Donna. _My love is a fever, longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease, feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, th'uncertain sickly appetite to please...for I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night."_

"You're the suit..."

The universe sucked in its breath as the usually unflappable, determinedly infallible Donna Paulsen verbally stumbled and her mind emptied of all knowledge or thought except how much she wanted to lay this waste to this delectable dark golden haired man, ravage and pillage his villages until he yielded all treasure to her rampaging horde.

"Et tu, Donna. _Et tu?"_

Harvey's cold voice echoing across the intercom momentarily slapped her from her stupor, at least until she drew in a breath, smelling the stranger's spicy cologne, and began yearning for more of his magical touch.

"You...me...yes...I'm Donna?" _Hell, she'd be anyone he wanted her to be. Forever. Without regret._

The lips folded into a delectable and utterly captivating smile, which nearly pulled her back under, until the sounds those luscious pillows of shameless love shaped took form in her shattered mind.

"I'm Dean Winchester and I have some questions for you."

The name echoed in the vastness of her incoherent brain until some niggling sense of duty reoriented her and brought her back online as if she were a computer being rebooted. Once the process was completed, she had searched and found the mental file deep within the catalog of any and all strange persons found within in her dominion (she graciously allowed Jessica and Harvey to carve out small principalities because she loved and respected them both dearly); Dean Winchester had come to her attention years before from a passing comment made by Jessica regarding her cousin Cassie, who was dating him at the time. It had stuck with her mostly because his last name wasn't common (at least in the States – she wondered if he had English relatives because holy Jesus there were a lot of them across the pond) and Jessica wasn't normally so mama bear protective over her admittedly kick ass relative. She'd done cursory research on him and found him absurdly easy since he was listed under "Winchester and Sons Detective Agency."

"Are you here to figure out who Harvey's creepy creeper is?"

"That would be my goal, and something tells me, you're the person to have on my side."

The small benignet and tall coffee that suddenly appeared on her desk didn't hurt his cause either. She was thoroughly embarrassed by her uncharacteristic lapse of decorum earlier, so she resisted the urge to grab the hole-less doughnut and shove it in her mouth. Her hands didn't tremble at all as she reached out and sedately placed the items close to her phone, and resolutely ignored them. It wouldn't do to show any more weakness here than already noted.

Adjusting the fit of her gold necklace, somehow askew, and smoothing down the silk material of her black dress, Donna pulled herself together and returned to the gimlet-eyed professional she usually was.

"You may speak with me further."

Keeping her eyes firmly locked on his eyes (god the green was incredibly gorgeous and his hair looked so velvety soft it was unfair), she raised one dark red eyebrow in demand. For the first time _ever_ she appreciated the struggles men had with keeping their gaze above the neckline – she was having her own troubles because Dean's mouth was a siren call to touch and sight. And given Harvey's predilection for golden boys (see Mike as evidence A, your Honor), it wasn't hard to understand what exactly about this one disturbed her normally ice-cold boss (and it wasn't just about the suit, though admittedly part of it was about the suit).

"You truly are a goddess among women," Dean flirted, before a more serious expression settled onto his face. "Has he received any more threatening letters? Maybe one you tucked away before giving him the day's mail?"

Donna silently slid the heavy cream envelope from under her keyboard and handed it over. There were measures she could take, but Harvey wasn't the most cautious of men, and really had no fear of anything or anyone because he had unshakeable confidence in his bull shitting abilities, but this...this was different. The malice and forethought (did Harvey really think she _didn't_ know about the video? Please.) the stalker had taken was chilling. He'd been targeted by wackos before, especially when he was still an ADA, but never to this degree and so personally too.

She couldn't explain it coherently if someone had asked her to clarify, other than to point to her gut, but there was no way this wasn't motivated by a very intimate hatred and grudge against Harvey as a person, more so than a lawyer, though there was plenty of reasons there too.

"Something you wanna share with the class, sweetheart?" The envelope had disappeared into his inner breast pocket, but he still stood there, _leaning_. It should've looked corny, but somehow he just made it look hot.

The low husky tone was more suited for the bedroom than an office, much less Pearson Hardman (oh god, the images being brought to mind by _that_ name) and she desperately wanted to capitalize on the promises he seemed to be making, but intellectually she knew it just an angle; he was using all the weapons at his disposal to do his job, which she could respect since she did it herself all the time.

She shrugged, her hair sweeping lightly over her shoulders at the movement.

"I think you need to talk to Mike Ross, Harvey's associate. Ask him about his ex-best friend and roommate. Ray, Harvey's driver, is another possible source as he might've seen or heard something. Oh, and don't forget about Rene Lefebvre, Harvey's tailor. That man has contacts even _I_ don't. I will probably have to call in a marker to get your foot in the door, but Harvey's worth it."

"Oh, I already have an appointment with Rene later today."

Donna's mouth dropped open in absolute and utter shock. This was a morning for the _damn_ _world to end as she knew it!_ No one just had an appointment with Rene – Harvey was probably the only person in New York who could reasonably expect the tailor to clear his schedule for an impromptu visit, whereas everyone else was relegated to waiting for months before they could be seen.

"How? What? When?"

Dean grinned again (though had he ever really lost the smile?) and reached over the divide to gently tip her chin so her mouth closed.

"I have my ways."

"Okay, that's the last straw! Get your hands off her!"

Both of them turned to see a heavily-breathing, clearly irate Harvey stomping over to defend Donna's honor. But before she could say anything, Dean leaned away from her, his grin widening into a smirk.

"Don't worry, dude. I promise from now on, I'll only touch you."

How the sprinkler system didn't erupt to douse the fire going on in Dean's expression as he checked out Harvey was something Donna would never understand. The flirtation she'd been exposed to was mild sauce compared to the four alarm hotness exploding between the two men now. She shivered a little, unable to be miffed at how Dean seemed to prefer her boss to her own incredible femininity simply because the idea of these two naked (sure Harvey was her friend but she could still objectively think about his curb appeal), writhing across a bed together (what about Mike? Oh god, now she _really _needed to fan herself at the idea of what these two deviants would love to do to him) more than made up for any slight. Dean Winchester apparently swung both ways, or in certain ways on certain days, but either way, he was sex on bowed legs.

"That's not...you're...I'm...don't call me dude."

Harvey stomped back into his office, slamming the door so hard the glass walls rippled, leaving behind a bemused assistant and a smug detective.

"That was interesting."

"He's fun. This case is broadening my horizons with each minute."

Donna gave him her best Persian cat mocking expression and had to smother the laugh that threatening to escape as he just winked and strolled away.

Rachael who was walking towards Donna's desk for some purpose nearly tripped into the wall as she checked out Dean's ass.

"Who's _that ?"_

"Oh honey, don't even try. He's wayyyy out of your league. Hell, he's out of _my_ league. He doesn't even play in the same stratosphere."

And with that stunning pronouncement, Donna returned to her emails, ignoring the choking sounds issuing from her paralegal friend.

* * *

_tbc_


End file.
